Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game Series)

by Amanda Foody

  Luckluster’s red lights sparkled all the way down the street. Levi sighed and leaned against an empty motorcar, taking in the glory of the Casino Distrct.

  Someone tapped his arm. Levi jumped, brandishing his gun, and tripped over the curb.

  It was Lola. She was dressed as she usually was, in her top hat and leather boots.

  “What do you want?” he asked. She was awfully far away from Dove Land, and Luckluster didn’t seem her type of haunt.

  “We thought you were inside,” she breathed.

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Me. And Enne.”

  Levi frowned. Enne shouldn’t have any idea where he was. Levi hadn’t told her about the scheme—it was the one thing he’d done right. So why was she here?

  “Vianca sent her to save you,” Lola explained. “And to kill Sedric Torren.”

  Levi’s heart screeched to a halt.

  He’d had it all planned: his death, on his terms. He’d have no one else’s blood on his hands tonight. Especially not Enne’s.

  “Where is she?” he rasped.

  “You just missed her.” Lola glanced worriedly at the red neon lights. Levi hadn’t thought she gave a muck what happened to Enne, but clearly he’d been mistaken. “She’s already inside. She’s looking for you.”

  Levi didn’t bother responding as he sprinted toward Luckluster, where his killers were waiting for him.

  ENNE

  Lola had lied about her driving skills.

  They sped down the streets of the Deadman District, the motorcar swerving and skidding through every turn. Enne white-knuckled the door handle each time Lola slammed the brakes.

  “You said we needed to get there fast,” Lola pointed out.

  At this point, Enne would just be thankful if they got there alive.

  After narrowly missing several cars, road signs and pedestrians, they screeched to a halt a block away from Luckluster.

  Lola pulled something black and silky out of her pocket—Enne’s mask from Scrap Market. “You might need this.” She slipped it into Enne’s concealed pocket, beside the leather box with the poison.

  “Knock him dead,” Lola said cheerfully.

  Enne grimaced. “Really? That’s distasteful.”

  The lights of Tropps Street danced around her, flashing in no particular pattern. They made her feel the way she had after drinking those Snake Eyes at the Sauterelle.

  “Better him than you,” Lola replied gravely.

  “If I’m not out by eleven...” Enne paused before repeating her mother’s oft-used phrase. “Then I’m dead.”

  Lola nodded solemnly. “Be careful.” And Enne knew that she meant it.

  Enne took a deep breath, shoved down the storm raging in her insides and walked down the block and through the revolving doors. Where Vianca had decorated St. Morse to resemble an old Mizer palace, all gaudy opulence and vintage luxuries, the Torrens had opted for New Reynes’s famous burlesque sinfulness. The staff wore uniforms easily mistaken for lingerie. Red carpet lined the floor and stairwell, darkened by dirty footprints, and scarlet lights blinked against the black-and-red-striped walls. It reminded her of a fun house. Even the jazz band played a carnival tune that beckoned players to contortionist shows and roulette tables.

  Enne checked the gambling rooms first, then the theater, the ballroom. Neither Sedric nor Levi were anywhere to be found.

  Maybe she was already too late.

  As she dashed around the corner, Enne collided with a man with his back turned, his white button-down a canvas for the dancing shadows and crimson lights.

  “I apologize. I didn’t see—”

  The stranger spun around. He smelled faintly of citrus cologne, and he had a fading black eye and complementary ace and spade tattoos on both his arms.

  Any relief she felt at finding Levi safe quickly vanished. If Sedric Torren sighted Levi, then Enne had little idea how she could save him.

  “Levi?” she croaked. “You need to get out of here—”

  “No, you need to get out of here.” He grabbed both of her arms and pulled her close, nearly knocking her into his chest in his urgency. He backed the two of them into an alcove off the lobby, away from the bustle of the crowd. Enne’s back pressed against a door leading to a coatroom.

  “You don’t understand.” She tried to shake him off, but he only held her firmer. “Sedric Torren—”

  “I know why you’re here.” She could smell the bourbon on his breath. “I can’t let you do it.”

  “Why not?” she hissed. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I’m not letting you get yourself killed. Especially not over me.”

  “It’s not only you. It’s...” She tried to say Vianca, but the omerta caught the name on her tongue. And, of course, there was something else. The cold, angry hurt inside her that wanted to end Sedric Torren and put a stop to the Shadow Game forever.

  “Let me help you,” she urged.

  Levi swallowed, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was delicate, hesitant, as if they had time for such tender gestures. “You can’t help me. You’re the one who needs to leave.”

  Didn’t he know her better than that by now? She had thrown everything away to save someone she loved before, and she would do it again for him.

  “I thought we were in this together,” she murmured. “You and me.”

  “Not in this. This has always been my problem.”

  His gaze moved down her dress, and he wore a look somewhere between longing and pain. She leaned in to him, and her hand found its way into his. Her head felt dizzy from the flashing lights and nearness of him, but even as her heart urged her to move closer, her mind compelled her to resist. The expression on Levi’s face scared her. Not because of the desire in his eyes—the desire she shared, as well—but the desperation. As his free hand moved around her waist, his other pinning hers to the wall, Enne realized he really believed that this was his last night, his last chance. This wasn’t simply attraction. This was him attempting to leave this world without regret.

  He bent low until his forehead pressed against hers, and the space between them felt negative and infinite all at once. Her heart stirred, begging her to surrender.

  “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

  She couldn’t promise that. Vianca had given her orders, and Enne intended to see them through. There would be more nights spent with Levi Glaisyer. This wasn’t their last chance.

  We won’t die tonight, she swore silently instead.

  “Promise me,” he repeated, and she felt his breath against her lips.

  She squeezed his hand. “You asked me to trust you once. Now I’m asking you to trust me.”

  His expression faltered. “I won’t let you—”

  “Please.”

  Breathless, she slid out of his grasp and disappeared into the crowd before he could catch her, praying she hadn’t made a heartbreaking mistake.

  Enne followed the pull of the omerta toward the bar, where it whispered to her that she would find her mark. Her hands were clammy with sweat, her chest tight with fear. She would have to face Sedric Torren again. Him and the terrible, nauseating way he looked at her.

  After a few moments, she stopped to glance back at Levi for a last push of courage.

  He was gone.

  “No,” she whispered. She shoved her way back to the alcove, but Levi was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d left, just as she’d pleaded. Enne should’ve felt relieved, but bullets of worry buried themselves in her chest. This was not the night to make assumptions.

  Had they found him already? Had they killed him?

  She had no time to search. The omerta was steering her toward the bar, and the clock was ticking. Whether or not Levi was safe, she would find out from Sedric T
orren, and she would finish what she’d come here to do.

  The room was dark and hazy with smoke. A single figure sat at the bar, one with broad shoulders and slicked-back hair.

  Sedric Torren caught her eye and gave her an inviting smile.

  All at once, she was back in the St. Morse theater. Sedric’s hand had found its way to her thigh, and her mind had found its way somewhere else as she waited for the poison to work, waited for the night to end. Sedric’s mind, too, had seemed somewhere else. Fabricating reasons to lure her away, imagining the things he would do in the dark, the way he’d tell her she’d wanted this, the secrets and shame he’d convince her to keep.

  She’d seen it all in his eyes then, and the same look was there now.

  Enne reminded herself how far she’d come since that night. She was not Vianca’s doll. She’d walked into the Deadman District and emerged a lord. She carried poison in one pocket and a gun in the other.

  She was a blade disguised as a girl.

  Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slid onto the stool beside him.

  “’Lo, Sedric,” she said.

  He inspected her dark lipstick and slip of a dress. His eyes traced over her face, her chest, the rest of her body. She could see the calculations in his head, trying to guess how old she truly was and whether he would still have her, anyway.

  “Emma Salta,” he said, all smiles and snares. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. You spend an awful lot of time in casinos for such a young lady.”

  It was so easy to slip back into that role. It felt like retreating to a different part of herself, a place where she didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel.

  “You don’t look happy to see me,” she said, feigning offense.

  “You look awfully different.”

  “I’m trying to impress,” she said. “You were right. Vianca wouldn’t hire me. I thought I would dress the part this time.”

  “You’re asking me for a job?”

  She couldn’t tell if she was fooling him. Everyone in this city had a perfect poker face. Lying was more of a necessity than a skill in New Reynes.

  “We danced last time,” she reminded him. “It seemed a sort of audition.”

  “You’re awfully ambitious.” He placed his hand under her chin and lifted it up. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she fought the urge to slap his fingers away. If the bartender wasn’t hovering so close by, she’d pull out the syringe now. Anything to prevent him touching her.

  “I’m sure we can discuss some type of...arrangement,” he said. “There’s a private room here no one’s using.”

  A trap, she knew. But she needed to get him alone. There was no other way.

  “That would be great,” she said.

  He waved away his men, then whispered something to the bartender that she couldn’t hear. The bartender gave her a pitying look before walking away, and Enne clenched a fist behind her back in response. She wasn’t the first girl. Everyone in this casino was complicit.

  “Come on,” Sedric said, putting his hand on the small of her back. It felt nothing like Levi’s had—his touch had felt warm and protective. Sedric’s felt wrong.

  They entered a small dining room. He pulled out a chair for her at one end of a glossy table. Like the rest of the casino, the decorations were red and black. Red carpet. Black iron chandelier. Red candles. Black place settings. Enne settled into her chair, wondering just how many people had watched her walk in, how well they’d seen her face. If they found Sedric dead here later, would they remember her?

  She couldn’t kill him yet, however. Not without knowing where Levi was.

  “I sent the bartender for a few drinks,” Sedric said, winking. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Oh. Are you celebrating anything tonight?”

  “You could say that. I managed to catch a criminal who was scamming a lot of people for a long time.”

  Levi.

  While Enne’s heart hammered, the bartender returned with their drinks, and she took hers—a sparkling pink liquid in a glass with a lollipop dunked inside. He handed Sedric a Gambler’s Ruin. “I helped a lot of people, maybe even got myself a few votes in the next election.”

  To avoid responding, Enne took a sip of her drink. She couldn’t help noticing how delicious it tasted. Sweet as sin.

  “You like it?” he asked, indicating the drink. “It’s called a Lollipop Lick.” Still trying to feign politeness, she nodded shakily and set down the glass. His smile widened.

  “What’s going to happen to this criminal?” Please, please let him still be alive.

  Her skin felt flushed all of a sudden—she was breaking under her nerves. Sweat rolled down her back, and she wished this dress wasn’t so tight on her hips.

  “He’s to be executed. I arranged it myself.” Sedric licked his lips. “Why so curious?”

  “No reason.” She raised her glass and prayed he didn’t see it shaking. “Cheers to your success.”

  Sedric raised his glass and clinked it with hers. Then, to Enne’s shock and discomfort, he took her hand in his. It was such a little, unassuming touch, but to her, any touch from him felt repulsive. Every move he made was a rehearsed act, designed to seduce, to ensnare.

  “You know,” he said, “you’re an excellent dancer, but I had no idea you were also so talented in acrobatics.”

  “What?” Her heart sped up in panic. Did he know?

  “Don’t be coy, my dear.” His eyes slithered over her once again, and Enne flinched. “I saw your show, and you were quite dazzling. One of the other acrobats told me your name is Enne Salta. You should’ve corrected me. I’ve been saying your name wrong this whole time.” Enne wrenched her hand away from his and let it creep toward her pocket. Her lie had unraveled, but it wouldn’t matter for much longer. She’d finish this right now.

  But her hands trembled as she slid the case out, and she struggled to get a grip on it with her sweaty fingers. Thankfully, he didn’t notice her fumbling beneath the table. “I searched for you that night, but I couldn’t find you.” He leaned forward again, took her other hand again, smiled again. She was too dazed to push him off. Her cheeks burned, yet she was cold, shivering from the coolness of her sweat. Her vision darkened and lightened like she’d stood up too fast, though she hadn’t moved an inch from her seat.

  This couldn’t be normal. Couldn’t just be stress or alcohol.

  Amid her haze, she tried to focus on the black case in her hand. One puncture. That was all it would take to end him.

  “I never had the chance, but I wanted to find you,” Sedric continued. “To buy you another drink.”

  Enne’s eyes flickered to the Lollipop Lick.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, not sounding the least concerned. “You look a little pale.”

  Then Enne realized what he’d done. Her chest heaved bit by bit, as if a crank needed to pry it open to inhale. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I guess that’s just the effects kicking in,” he said casually.

  Her balance veered, and Sedric placed his hand on her shoulder to steady her. As if he still had her best interests at heart.

  He’d drugged her. How naïve of her to take a sip of that drink. To believe, even for a moment, that she’d had him fooled.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t kill you,” he assured her. “You’ll wake up soon enough. I wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”

  Her grip slackened. The leather case slid back into her pocket.

  Her shoulder hit the edge of the table, but she barely felt any pain—only nausea. Her thoughts were thicker than grime. She knew something was wrong—she was in danger, Levi was in danger—but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why. The man in front of her smiled—she couldn’t recall his name, either—a not-quite-handsome smile. He reached into
his jacket and pulled out something shiny.

  “Brought you a gift,” he whispered. He tucked the silver rectangle into her hand. A man in a jester’s hat grinned up at her from the face of the card. She looked back at the man to ask what it was—she knew it, knew it, but couldn’t remember—but he and everything else were gone.

  LEVI

  This was Levi’s last night to live, and he hadn’t even gotten a kiss goodbye.

  The black silky hemline of Enne’s dress disappeared into the crowd, and he cursed under his breath. He wouldn’t let her do this.

  He started pushing through the Luckluster patrons to follow her, but was quickly blocked by two of Sedric’s men. As Levi tried to slip past, he stumbled over one of their canes.

  “Watch it!” one of the men said, catching Levi by the arm. His front tooth glinted gold.

  Something sharp stabbed Levi in the neck. He yelped, then felt his body go slack. Another arm slid around his middle, hoisting him up. Levi fought to move, tried to lift his head to search for Enne’s black dress, but he was paralyzed. Even his mind was going numb.

  Someone nearby gasped.

  “He’s just drunk,” a voice said. “Real lightweight, this one.”

  All at once, the red lights went dark.

  * * *

  Levi woke sitting against a stone pillar, his hands tied behind him, an ache in his lower stomach. A man stood over him, presumably having just kicked him awake. He was well over six feet tall and half as wide. Levi moaned and pulled at the ropes binding him to the pillar, but they only scratched his wrists.

  “Rise and shine,” his captor said. A hint of gold flashed as he smiled, revealing teeth that were pointed like a shark, and Levi realized it was the same man from Luckluster. “Almost thought you’d miss the party. That would’ve been a right shame.”

  One light bulb dangled above them, and from the looks of the room, they were in a basement. The cold cement walls reeked of mold, and a distant laughter echoed from a wooden staircase that led upstairs.